


We Better Talk This Over

by Lena86



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s08e18 Threads, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 09:50:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lena86/pseuds/Lena86
Summary: Sam had been aware of his attention all day in a way she'd be hard pressed to define. The man was a master at looking without looking. They both were. He had an almost uncanny knack of appearing beside her when she needed him most, sometimes managing to cross whole rooms without appearing to move through the intervening space.





	We Better Talk This Over

**Author's Note:**

> How we got from the end of Threads to the 'You've got packin' to do,' hipcheck at the end of Moebius.

Sam allowed herself a moment to sink into the couch cushions, pushing back the need to get up and leave. It was strange, she thought. It wasn't as though she wanted today to last. In fact, she’d been desperate for it to be over. 

Her father’s funeral. His wake. She'd wanted it to be over so much she’d spent most of last night and this morning picturing this very moment. The formalities dispensed with, the well wishers gone, her brother and his family ensconced in their hotel room.  Just SG1, alone at the end of the day in the companionable silence borne of years of comfortable silences and fizzing speech.

She drew strength from them, knew they did the same with each other, with her. They wouldn't crowd her, wouldn't try to force comfort on her the way so many others had. They were simply content to be here, together as the night wore on. She wasn't blind, she was aware of the looks from Daniel, eyebrows raised over the frames of his glasses. The gentle touches of Teal'c’s huge hand on her elbow, steadying her when the sheer weight of the day became too much to bear. And General O’Neill...

Sam had been aware of his attention all day in a way she'd be hard pressed to define. The man was a master at looking without looking. They both were. He had an almost uncanny knack of appearing beside her when she needed him most, sometimes managing to cross whole rooms without appearing to move through the intervening space. Saying nothing, other than a murmured,  _ ‘Carter,’  _ when she took too long to respond to an old colleague of her father's, or when she'd unconsciously started to hold her breath at the graveside, waiting for the coffin to be lowered. 

The wake had been at the General’s house, much as Daniel's had been almost nine years ago. General O’Neill had seen the brief look of panic she had tried to mask at the idea of having all these people in her home and had offered his own, impatiently waving away her token gesture of refusal. 

And now here they were. Teal'c was reading over by the fireplace, his legs stretched out towards the warmth of the fire. Daniel and General O’Neill were quietly playing chess across the room, Daniel concentrating so hard his glasses had slipped down his nose. The General was affecting a more relaxed air, his attention flitting between the game, Daniel, and Sam where she sat on the couch, her legs tucked up beneath her and a beer in her hand, watching the three of them. 

The General looked up at Daniel, a smirk playing across his features. ‘ _ Again _ , Daniel?’

‘Fine,’ Daniel said, exasperated, sighing heavily as the General knocked over his queen and checkmated him. ‘I need to get going anyway.’ O’Neill flashed half a grin at the younger man and stood, stretching out his back. ‘You want some help clearing up or…’ Daniel said, stifling a yawn. 

O’Neill narrowed his eyes, apparently wondering whether the offer was genuine. ‘Nah. You go on home. I'll throw most of it in the dishwasher and hope the rest disappears by morning.’

As O’Neill began picking up the living room Daniel turned to his friends. ‘You guys ready to go or are you sticking around a while?’ 

Teal'c rose fluidly. ‘I am ready to depart Daniel Jackson.’

‘Sam?’ Daniel said, catching a strange look from Teal’c as he spoke.

Sam looked from Daniel to her beer, picking idly at the label. ‘I'm going to help the General clean up.’ 

‘You want us to wait and -’

‘I can give Carter a ride home,’ O’Neill said, passing through the living room with more glasses from the deck. 

Sam followed Daniel and Teal'c to the door, hugging them both before closing it behind them and moving back to the couch. She could hear General O’Neill clearing away what was left of the plates and glasses in the kitchen, heard him turn on the small stereo he kept out there. 

He'd found her in the observation room in the early hours of the morning after her father's body had been moved to the morgue. She'd been sitting on the bed, staring down at her hands in her lap. He walked in quietly, mercifully leaving the lights off, and leant against the bed next to her, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his BDUs. 

‘I thought you'd left.’

She shook her head. ‘I went out for a while to take care of some things. Then I came back.’

He nodded. ‘You call your brother yet?’

‘He's flying in on Friday.’

‘The President’s coming. Walter’s finding the Tok’ra something to wear that won't compromise national security.’

She glanced sideways at him. ‘They're allowed to go?’

He shrugged. ‘I spoke to the Pentagon.’ They sat in silence for a few moments. ‘You know, Carter, you should -’

She shifted minutely until their shoulders were touching, effectively silencing him. ‘I don't want to go home yet, sir.’

He dragged his hand out of his pocket, sliding it around her shoulders and pulling her in against his side. ‘OK.’

Back in the present, Sam heard the dishwasher start and pulled herself to her feet, moving quietly into the kitchen. O’Neill was busy at the sink, rinsing off wine glasses and stacking them. For the first time in years she allowed herself to just watch him. He'd taken off his dress shirt and was barefoot, the lack of shoes incongruous with his uniform pants. His white undershirt stretched across his back as he stacked the glasses and she watched the muscles there move, saw the tension in his neck that called out the falsity of the relaxed attitude he’d affected all day. 

Thinking she'd better at least offer to help, Sam moved across the kitchen and began drying the glasses. 

‘Leave those,’ O’Neill said. ‘I'll put them away tomorrow. Why don't you make some coffee?’

When he finally turned around she was sitting at the breakfast bar, a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses in front of her. He quirked an eyebrow. 

‘That's not coffee,’ he said, sounding amused. 

‘I don't want to go home yet,’ she said quietly. 

He cocked his head to the side and walked across the kitchen, pulling on his dress shirt but leaving it undone. He leant his elbows on the opposite side of the counter and looked up at her. ‘So..?’

She poured two shots of tequila and slid one towards him. He hesitated and for a moment she thought he'd refuse - insist he take her home - but then he raised an eyebrow at her and nodded. 

‘Why did you offer to have the wake here?’ 

He looked mildly surprised at the question. ‘I spoke to Jacob about it. Seemed like a good idea. Didn’t think you’d want everyone crowding into your place.’

‘You spoke to my dad?’ she asked, sipping her tequila and pulling a face. She looked up and caught him smirking at her. ‘Daniel said you and Kerry aren't together anymore.’

He froze, glancing up at her before knocking back his entire drink. ‘That doesn't sound like a question.’

She swallowed convulsively. ‘What happened?’ she asked, pouring him another shot. 

‘It… doesn't matter,’ he said. 

‘That's not an answer.’

She watched as he winced and picked up the glass, draining the contents while keeping dark eyes on hers. She raised her eyebrows, looking away. 

He didn't speak for a while and she glanced up at him.

‘Why’d you come to my house?’

Sam squirmed. She'd instigated this. Had purposefully started down this road with him and now she couldn't look at him. ‘You know why,’ She said softly. 

‘That's not an answer,’  he sing-songed softly.

She nodded and took a sip of her drink. ‘When were you going to tell me about Washington?’

He looked down at the glass in his hand, turning it around and around, keeping his eyes on his hand rather than meet her gaze. ‘Who told you?’

‘That's not an -’

‘Carter. Who told you?’

‘General Hammond.’

He sighed and poured himself another drink. ‘Figures.’

‘Why didn't  _ you _ tell me?’

‘I… haven't decided what I'm going to do yet,’ he admitted, drinking his shot. ‘Kerry said I should retire.’ 

Pushing down her discomfort at hearing Kerry’s name, Sam raised her eyebrows. ‘Again? Why?’

O’Neill tilted his head to the side. ‘You know why.’

She bit the inside of her cheek, poured him another shot and drank hers down before she could think about it. ‘So it's optional?’ she asked. 

He winced. ‘Not exactly. Hammond’s sick, he can’t stay.’

She thought for a moment. ‘And you don't trust anyone else to do the job.’

‘Right.’ He looked up at her. ‘You wanna tell me why you don’t want to go home?’

‘I want you to be honest with me,’ she said, ignoring his question.

‘I'm always honest with you,’ he said. At her raised eyebrows he relented. ‘Mostly.’

‘I can't think of the last time we were honest with each other, sir.’

O’Neill sighed heavily. ‘Carter… I don't think this is the right time for us to -’

‘When will it be the right time? When you're thousands of miles away?’

‘We just buried dad. You just broke up with Shanahan. It’s not -’

‘You always got away with calling him that.’ 

He snorted his amusement at that, somehow knowing exactly which  _ him  _ she was referring to. ‘Yeah. Probably the least annoying thing I did to Jacob. So?’

‘He wouldn't let Pete get away with it. Not even by accident.’ 

O’Neill shrugged awkwardly. ‘I'm not Pete.’

She looked up at him, seeing he was looking down at the countertop. ‘No. You're not.’

He shot her a glance. ‘I tried to retire, you know. Then Hammond had that thing with his heart and… they won't let me.’

Sam moved around the island, coming to a stop in front of him. He straightened, looking down at her impassively. He was tall, she thought, wondering at herself for having managed to forget. Somehow seeing him every day made him seem more… manageable.

But standing here in his kitchen in her stocking feet only inches away from him she was struck anew with the height of him, the broadness of his shoulders and the darkness of his eyes as he looked down at her. She remembered being caught off guard by his eyes the first time she'd met him. Having sized him up - fairly accurately - as someone who would be likely to be impressed by the right level of cheekiness on the part of subordinate officers she'd offered to arm wrestle him to prove her mettle. Instead of the irritation most superior officers would have shown, Colonel O’Neill’s eyes had flashed amusement at her. She'd ignored the flutter in her stomach, telling herself it was nerves. 

‘What ya doin’, Carter?’ he asked, looking down at her curiously.

‘I don't want you to go,’ she said, feeling her voice catch on the last word. 

He regarded her silently for a moment then raised his hands, pulling her against himself and resting his head against hers. After a moment she realised he was rocking slightly, the movement soothing her. 

Her fingers tightened in the lapels of his dress shirt. ‘Jack…’

‘I know.’

Annoyed, Sam pushed back slightly so she could look up at him. ‘ _ You know _ ?’ she repeated. ‘You said that to me before, when we were on our way to Taonas.  _ Do _ you know?’

‘Never doubted it for a second.’

She glared at him. ‘Never doubted it? I was engaged, for crying out loud.’ Abruptly realising she was still in his arms she stood back. ‘I should call a cab.’

‘Don't be ridiculous.’

‘You don't have to drive me… I can…’

‘Carter.’ She looked up at him, surprised when he reached for her arm, snagging her wrist and drawing her forward, positioning her at his side so that they were both leaning against the counter. He handed her the glass she'd been drinking from, downing his own before speaking. ‘I'm leaving the SGC. I didn't want to tell you about it today because I figured you had enough on your mind.’ 

‘Did you think I wouldn't want to know? That I wouldn't care?’ she asked, keeping her eyes on his kitchen floor.  ‘You said you'd always be here for me and you're leaving!’

‘I'm leaving the SGC,’ he repeated. ‘I'm not leaving you.’

She looked up at him and caught him looking down at her. She found herself assaulted by images of him, spread over almost a decade and starting with the picture she’d found in the file she’d been given after she’d found out she was being reassigned to the SGC, would be under the command of the colonel who had gone to Abydos, who had lied in his report and somehow managed to retain his command. He’d been in front of the gate, standing beside Daniel, flanked by his team. Surrounded by people, he’d looked alone. 

At the time, she’d thought it was the depression that had been glanced over in his much-redacted personnel file. It was only later she realised he always stood out to her, her eyes seemingly keyed to the shape of him, his face, his eyes. 

Snatches of him over the years were flickering through her mind. All the tiny moments that had led them here. The smirks, the flashes of anger, his face half in shadow keeping watch offworld. He’d pushed her, cajoled her and teased her, forcing her to push the limits of her intelligence. Drawing her out until she no longer needed to prove herself.

And he’d let her go without saying a word, trusting her to know what she was doing when it felt like no one else did. When she’d announced her engagement Daniel had expressed his doubts in the way only Daniel could, making her feel irritated and cared for all at once. Teal’c had said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow and gone back to his meal. 

She’d quieted Daniel’s fears and they’d resumed their dinner. She’d made it halfway through her salad when Daniel spoke again, his tone all too innocent.

‘So... have you told Jack?’

But the General had merely nodded, congratulated her, and gone back to the paperwork that seemed ever-present on his desk. She’d watched him a few moments, wondering at her own actions. When he’d glanced up and politely asked her if she needed anything else she’d felt herself on the edge of  _ something  _ and had beat a hurried retreat, making it all the way to the elevator before releasing the breath she’d not realised she was holding, surprised at the feeling of loss that threatened to overwhelm her. 

She needed him. Along the line  _ I adore you already _ had become  _ I would rather die myself than lose Carter _ had become  _ Always  _ and she'd been right there with him. She knew it and he knew it. Had apparently always known it. And he was still leaving.

‘You didn’t tell me.’

‘I didn’t tell anyone,’ he countered.

‘I’m not anyone.’

‘No,’ he said thoughtfully, repeating what she’d said earlier.  ‘You’re not.’

‘The Goa'uld are as good as gone,’ she said quietly. 

‘Looks like it.’ 

She pushed away from the counter. ‘The Jaffa are free.’ He nodded, tilting his head down to look at her as she moved closer. ‘We're not in any imminent danger.’

‘Not as far as I can see.’

‘Soon I won't be under your direct command.’

‘That's true.’

‘You’ll be in Washington.’

‘I'll be here, too. Checking up on the SGC. Making sure Daniel's still... with us.’ 

She reached out, tentatively sliding a hand up his chest to his neck. ‘Jack?’

‘Carter?’

She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him, tasting the tequila, the beer he’d been drinking earlier, and him. She sagged against him, her senses filled with what was at once familiar and shockingly new. Jack. Her brain seemed to be intent on repeating his name over and over again,  _ Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack _ . Then he slid his hands into her hair and his tongue into her mouth and her mind went mercifully blank. 

When he made to move back from her she held onto him, fisting her hands in his dress shirt and keeping his body pressed against hers. He dropped his hands to her waist and regarded her seriously. 

‘There’s something very…  _ wrong _ about doing that while you’re wearing this,’ he said, plucking at her dress shirt. 

‘I could take it off?’ she offered, smirking at him as he groaned and kissed her again. 

‘Carter, not that this isn’t… unbelievable… but we really shouldn’t -’

‘Dont,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t say we shouldn’t do this.’

‘We shouldn’t do this  _ right now _ ,’ he countered. ‘I’m still your CO.’

‘I don’t care.’

Jack smiled and brushed her hair back from her face. ‘I do.’

‘I need you,’ she said, surprised at the vulnerability that swept through her. 

‘No, you don’t.’

‘I want you.’

‘That’s better.’

She rolled her eyes at him and he tilted his head to the side, his lips twitching into a half smile. Jack pulled her closer and she rested her head against his shoulder, sliding her arms up around him. ‘So what now?’ she asked. 

‘I’m at the SGC for another month. A week of which will be downtime. I’m thinking I’ll work next week, take a week, finish up by the middle of next month and head for Washington.’

‘I can’t believe you’re going to the Pentagon.’

‘Think how I feel.’

‘And what about...’

‘Us? I’ll need to speak to the President. You won’t be under my command anymore but… Homeworld Security…’

‘Everything comes under your purview.’ She felt him nod. ‘I could… transfer.’

He loosened his hold on her, letting her step back so he could look down at her. ‘No.’

‘I was thinking about it anyway. I could do with keeping my feet on the ground for a while. Cassie’s going through a rough patch at school.’

‘Cassie’s school is in Nevada.’

‘I could spend some time in R&D. Just a few months until she’s settled.’

‘Carter…’

‘I can see you more often.’

‘Isn’t Nevada further from DC than the Springs?’

‘Closer than P3X-2 -’

Jack held up his hands in surrender. ‘I get it.’ He regarded her seriously. ‘You sure this is what you want? Once we do this there’s no going back.’

‘Don’t you?’ she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

‘Sam,’ he said softly. 

‘Jack?’ she countered, raising an eyebrow. She watched his eyes narrow and his cheek hollow as he bit the inside of it. 

‘I’ll call the President,’ Jack said finally. ‘Tomorrow.’ He glanced around the kitchen. ‘I should get you -’

‘You’re not driving. You’ve had too much to drink.’ 

When she didn’t seem impressed by his sardonic look he shrugged. ‘I can set up the guest room...’ he offered, waving a hand expansively. 

Sam resisted the urge to smile at his awkwardness. ‘Stay with me,’ she said quietly. 

‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,’ he said, watching her move closer again. ‘In fact, I think it’s a bad idea.’

‘Bad?’ she said, sliding her hands up over his chest, around his neck and into his hair, watching as his eyes fell closed. 

‘Very, very bad,’ he confirmed. 

‘What if I promise to behave?’ she asked, smiling up at him. 

‘Carter,’ he sighed, grabbing her and backing her up against the counter and pressing himself into her. ‘It’s  _ so _ not you I’m worried about.’

 


End file.
